


Our Time Is Running Out

by snarkytrickstergod



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkytrickstergod/pseuds/snarkytrickstergod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt I found on Tumblr: "You need a heart transplant and there’s no available donors so I’ll just make you one by dying so you can live AU"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Time Is Running Out

**Author's Note:**

> As this is a fanfiction, and I didn't make research for this, the medical information about transplants and heart conditions are wrong, so don't take this seriously!

Pete should have known.

He hadn’t paid much attention when Patrick started getting more tired or sleeping more. He had blamed it on the stress of the tour.

But when Patrick fainted in the middle of a concert, he finally understood something was terribly wrong.

Now, in the hospital’s waiting room, he cursed himself for not caring.

“I’m so fucking stupid! I knew something wasn’t okay with him, but I didn’t care!”

“Pete, don’t blame yourself for this. None of us noticed, we thought it was just the stress of being in tour!” Andy said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Andy’s right, this is anyone’s fault.”Joe added from his spot on the chair. “You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t know was gonna happen.”

Pete opened his mouth to reply, but was cut by a doctor walking in their direction.

“You’re Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley and Joe Trohman, right?”

“You’re missing out a few middle names, but yeah, it’s us.” Pete muttered.

“How’s Patrick?” Joe asked, nervous.

The doctor let out a sigh. “Not good. We made some tests and discovered that the sudden tiredness is due a heart failure. His heart isn’t working appropriately, and that might trigger more serious complications if it isn’t treated in time.”

“Meaning?”

“If your friend doesn’t receive an heart transplant in two days maximum, he might not survive.”

The three men felt like they were punched in the stomach.

Pete went pale, eyes wide in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing; he couldn’t believe his best friend’s life was in danger.

And all because he didn’t act in time.

Andy was the first to react, asking the doctor how the transplant thing worked.

“Well, we need a donor, a healthy person around your friend’s age, that had died very recently, for example. That way we could take their heart and put in on him. The probabilities of success are rather high. However…”

Joe eyed the doctor, who looked uncomfortable. “What? What’s the problem?”

“There are no donors available.”

Joe and Andy turned around to Pete, who had sat on a chair during the doctor’s speech.  
Fresh tears were rolling through his face as he glared at the doctor.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? There are no people to give their heart to Patrick. And now he’s gonna die because of it.”

His voice was no louder than a mutter, which was a sign that the bassist would break down any minute.

The doctor scratched his head, visibly uncomfortable. “We’re going to contact the nearest hospitals, see if they have a compatible heart. It’s possible that they can send us the heart to the transplant.”

“And what if that doesn’t work? What happens if they don’t have anything?” Pete exclaimed, getting up the chair on a rush and walking to the doctor. “I’ll tell you what happens: Patrick will die!”

He screamed the last words, making everyone in the waiting room look at him, curious.

Andy held his friend back, trying to calm him down. “Pete, don’t do this. Fighting won’t solve anything.”

“We still have two days, I’m sure a compatible donor will appear.”Joe added, gently pushing Pete back to the chair.

Pete didn’t answer, instead sitting back in the chair and crying. The doctor said they could visit Patrick if they wanted, gave them the number of the room, and left.

 

Ten minutes later, and a successful tentative to make Pete calm down, they were all at Patrick’s room.  
The singer looked like his normal self, just a bit pale, and was smiling.

“How do you feel?” Andy asked, smiling.

“Good, just a little tired. But I guess it’s normal, seeing my health conditions and all.”

“You’ll be fine, Trick. Give it some months and you’ll be jumping around and singing your lungs out like nothing ever happened!” Joe said with a cheerful voice, and Patrick chuckled.

“Yeah, and creating new memes, like ‘Thanks Pete’ or ‘5 sauce’.” He added, making everyone laugh.

Well, almost everyone.

The blonde looked at Pete who was sitting in the chair next to him, quiet and looking down.

Patrick sat more comfortably in the bed and asked Joe and Andy to leave them alone.  
They got out after saying goodbye, and the singer turned to his friend.

“Hey, Mr. grumpy old man, come here.” He softly said.

The bassist looked at him, and slowly got up and walked to the bed. Patrick motioned for him to sit on the side, which he did.

“Pete, there’s no need to be like that. I’m not dead yet, you know?”

“I can’t help it. Trick, they have two days to find a new heart for you, or else you’ll… you…” he stuttered, unable to finish the sentence. His eyes teared up again, and he looked at his hands.

“That’s not gonna happen. They’ll find a new heart for me. People are always dying, and while I don’t like it, I’m sure someone will appear. And you should be too.”

There was a moment of silence in the room, with only the sound of the machine connected to Patrick’s chest breaking it.

Pete choked down a sob before looking up.

“I just… I don’t want to lose you, Patrick. I- I dunno what I’d do without you.”

The singer didn’t answer, and pulled Pete to a hug.  
The bassist held on to him for dear life, crying on his shoulder while Patrick ran his hand up and down his back in an attempt to calm him down.

“You’re not gonna lose me, Panda. I promise.”

 

Night fell, and the three men had to leave. Pete insisted to sleep on the hospital, but Joe and Andy simply dragged him to the car, bringing him home and telling him to sleep.

But he couldn’t. He tossed on his bed, trying to sleep, but it was useless. He had a bad feeling on his chest, a fear that things had gotten worse since he last saw Patrick.

In the morning, Joe, Andy and Pete drove to the hospital, anxious. They hoped they had found a compatible donor for Patrick during the night.

As soon as they entered they ran to the counter, asking for the doctor they talked with the day before.

He appeared some minutes later, brows furrowed in concern. The three men swallowed hard, nervous.

“I hate to say this, but your friend’s state worsened during the night. He had a cardiac arrest, and now his heart is only beating with the help of machines. He needs the transplant immediately, before it’s too late.”

“And there are still no donors available?” Andy asked, near tears.

The doctor shook his head. “All near hospitals answered negatively.”

Andy and Joe groaned, both desperate and scared.

Pete was in the back, listening to the doctor’s speech, and walked to him, surprisingly calm.

“You said you need a healthy person around Patrick’s age for the transplant, right?”

The doctor nodded. Pete’s two bandmates looked at him, confused.

“Well, I’m five years older than him, but I think that could still work.”

The doctor looked at him, silent. Joe’s eyes widened in horror, and he gasped.

“You’re not gonna do what I think you’re gonna do, Pete!” he exclaimed.

“You heard the doctor, Joe. Patrick needs a new heart immediately, before he dies.” He replied with the same calm tone.

Now it was Andy’s turn to look at him with wide eyes, finally realizing what he meant.

“No! Pete, you’re not gonna make yourself a donor!” He said, shocked.

“Guys, if I don’t do this, he’ll die. Is that what you want?”

“But we don’t want you to die either! There must be another option!”

Pete sighed. “There isn’t. I thought about it all night. If Patrick didn’t have a compatible heart, I’d give him mine. It’s my choice, guys. I’m sorry for not telling you, but I knew you’d refuse.”

“And for a good reason!” Joe screamed. “You’re out of your mind!”

“Maybe. But at least I’ll do a good thing for once in my life.” Pete said, and turned to the doctor. “What do I need to do?”

The doctor looked at the trio for a second, before answering. “I need to make a few tests, you need to come with me.”

“Just a moment.” Pete took an envelope from his jacket, and gave it to Andy. “Give this to Patrick when he wakes up.”

“It’s still not too late, Pete. You can still back up.” Andy said, tears in his eyes. “Don’t do this, please.”

Pete simply shook his head, and pulled Andy and Joe to a hug. Their last one.

They hugged him tight, crying, and Pete half-smiled.

“Don’t worry, guys, I’ll still be around, promise.”

He broke the hug, and looked to his friends, smiling. “Take care of Tricky for me, okay?”

They nodded, resigned, and watched him go down the corridor, following the doctor.

After the tests, the doctor led Pete to the operations room, and a nurse helped him strip off his clothes and putting the hospital gown.

He laid down on the table, shivering at the cold surface. A part of his mind was telling him to get up and run before it’s too late, but he stayed. If he needed to die to save Patrick, then so be it.

He saw a nurse preparing the anesthesia, and closed his eyes, trying to stay calm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He heard.

“Yes.”

He felt the needle entering his skin, and a few minutes later felt his head getting heavier.  
Patrick was the last thing on his head before his world turned black.

 

The white ceiling lights hurt his eyes as Patrick slowly woke up, still dizzy.

He heard muffled voices on his side, and turned his head, ignoring the pain.  
He saw Andy and Joe sitting on chairs. Andy was holding Joe, who was crying on his chest, and trying to soothe him, but he was also crying.

Patrick observed them, confused. Why were they crying? He was live, and alright!

Wasn’t he?

Andy noticed Patrick had woken up and swallowed hard.

“Tricky! You-you’re awake!” He stuttered.

“What’s going on, guys? Why are you crying? I’m okay, aren’t I?”

Joe sat straight on the chair and tried to smile.

“Yeah, you’re alright. The transplant was a success, the doctor said you’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

Patrick smiled. “See? I told you I’ll be fine!” He looked around. “Where’s Pete?”

Andy and Joe looked at each other, and then down. They didn’t answer, and swallowed the tears that were trying to escape.

Patrick’s smile faded, and his face turned white.

“No… No, please, tell me it’s not…”

“We tried to make him turn back.” Andy muttered.

“We didn’t want him to do it.” Joe added, choking down a sob. “But he didn’t listen.”

“He said he had no other choice, that if he didn’t do it you’d die.”

Patrick shook his head repeatedly, eyes tearing up. “No…”

Joe took a deep breath before finally speaking with a strangled voice.

“Pete died to make sure you’d live.”

The singer screamed in agony, before breaking down in sobs.

“NO!”

 

A month passed before Patrick was finally admitted out of the hospital. It should have been only two weeks, but the state of shock the singer entered after learning Pete had died postponed the decision.

When he got out, Andy and Joe were waiting for him. They still couldn’t smile; the memory of Pete’s sacrifice was still too fresh.

“Where do you want to go?” Andy asked, knowing well what the answer would be.

“I want to visit Pete.”

A week after Patrick’s transplant Pete’s family buried him. The singer couldn’t go to the funeral ‘cause the doctors said he wasn’t in conditions to go outside, especially to face such a traumatic event.

Now that he was out, the singer didn’t want to waste any more time.

They drove to the graveyard in silence, observing the rolling scenario in front of them.  
When they arrived, Joe and Andy stayed in the car. Patrick looked at them questioningly, but realized why they were doing this.  
They wanted Patrick to say goodbye to Pete alone.

He slowly walked through the graves, looking at the names, looking for that familiar one.

Part of him didn’t want to find the grave. It didn’t want to face the fact that Pete died. Because of him. Or for him. The effect was the same, anyway.

He finally found the right grave, and stopped in front of it. He looked at the name carved in the stone, but his head wasn’t recording it.

_Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third_

_Pete Wentz._

“This doesn’t sound right.” He muttered. “Your name doesn’t look right in there.”

A pause.

_What can I even say? How do you say goodbye to someone who died to save you?_

He stood there for a whole minute, quiet, looking at those silver letters. Why couldn’t he say anything?

And then it hit him.

“I can’t say goodbye to you.” He said, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “I can’t, ‘cause you’re not dead. You’re still alive. Inside of me.”

He looked down at his chest, mentally picturing the scar crossing it. “Your heart is still beating. It doesn’t matter if it’s in another body, it still is. And that means you’re not dead. Not until your heart stops beating, forever.”

He kneeled down. Tears were rolling down his face, but he didn’t notice.

“I still have your letter, you know. I read it so many times. You say you did it for love. Because you didn’t want to live in a world where I was dead.”

He paused, talking a deep breath.

“But did you think I’d want it? You think I’d want to live in this miserable world, having to handle it on my own? Without you to keep me sane? To make me the happy and cheerful person you knew?”

“You’re wrong, Pete. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to lose you. Hell, I still don’t want it!”

The singer got up, stumbling. “Dammit Pete, I just want you to come back!”

Silence fell in the graveyard. The only sounds one could hear was the rustling of the leaves and Patrick’s muffled crying.

He knew this would be hard. Facing the facts. But he never imagined it’d hurt so damn much.

He heard the horn of a car, and knew it was the time to go. He took an envelope from his pocket, and placed it on the stone.

“I doubt you’ll ever read this, I probably will have to tell you personally when I find you again, but that’s okay. Goodbye, Pete.”

He looked one last time at the grave, and walked back to the car, leaving those unspoken words waving in the air.

_I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> In my defense, this fic was a pain to write, so don't try to kill me! Also, I spent two hours trying to figure out the ending, so I'm sorry if it's shitty.
> 
> I'll write another fic to make up for this one, promise!
> 
> Anyway, tell me what you think, all that jazz. And please comment, so I know you're not too angry with me?


End file.
